


Day 24

by itcouldallbesosimple



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Gen, Missing Persons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28388853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itcouldallbesosimple/pseuds/itcouldallbesosimple
Summary: “Do you think Leah is right?”“I don’t know,” Dot huffs. She likes Leah, but she hadn’t really had cause to agree or disagree with any of her conspiracy theories. They’ve just seemed inconsequential. Until this one, maybe. But maybe she only thinks they’ve seemed inconsequential after the fact. “And I guess right now I don’t care. There’s too many other things to care about.”In the early hours of Day 24.
Relationships: Shelby Goodkind/Toni Shalifoe
Comments: 7
Kudos: 133





	Day 24

“Do you think she’s going to be ok?” Martha yells. The wind whips the sand into a frenzy so that it stings against their cheeks and has them shielding their eyes. She looks across the moonlit water and pulls at her fingers. First with one hand, then with the other. 

Dot’s eyes are on the water, too. It’s not so much that she can’t look at Martha, it’s more that she can’t look at anyone. Besides, looking at Martha would mean a face full of sand. “Who - Nora? Or Rachel?”

There’s a long pause as Martha considers. Dots thinks maybe she needs to yell again, like her words got carried out to sea. 

Everyone else would hesitate before answering that question, too. Almost everyone else. Maybe not Leah. “Both, I guess.” Martha tears her eyes from the water to look over her shoulder at the bodies hovered around the fire on the beach. It’s still going strong, helped by the cove, the cliffs, and the wind’s direction. 

“No idea. For either.” 

Dot’s eyes follow Martha’s. Rachel’s never seemed so small. A trail of blood - where it hasn’t been washed away by the surf - leads from where Dot and Martha stand all the way to the makeshift sleeping bag Fatin pulled together once the shock had worn off a little bit. The shock still lingered, for some more than others. 

“Rachel’s lost a lot of blood,” Dot says. “The medications and gauze we found in Jeanette’s bag are helping, but those won’t hold up for long.” 

There was so much blood. So much that Fatin turned away, ran toward the edge of the woods, and vomited. Martha quickly followed. Dot might have done the same but her mind was moving too quickly. Instead, those survival skills the group had so relied on kicked in once again. There was no opportunity for her to beg off this time, to let someone else take charge. 

“And Nora?” Martha asks, eyes back on the rolling black sea. It was calmer before, in the daylight. So calm, it seemed impossible to predict what would happen next. Now white-capped waves and the crash and rumble of the breaks match the moods of the girls on the beach and the omens of the daytime. 

“Well...it’s not a good sign that we haven’t seen her yet.” She shouldn’t have followed Rachel out there. That’s the general consensus. 

Martha’s eyes pause their scan and turn to Dot. “Do you think Leah is right?” 

“I don’t know,” Dot huffs. She likes Leah, but she hadn’t really had cause to agree or disagree with any of her conspiracy theories. They’ve just seemed inconsequential. Until this one, maybe. But maybe she only thinks they’ve seemed inconsequential after the fact. “And I guess right now I don’t care. There’s too many other things to care about.” 

Dot looks back over at Fatin, then Rachel: “I should get back to her.”

“Yeah. I’ll keep my eye on the water. See if I see any clues.”

Dot nods. 

\--

After she vomited, it didn’t take long for Fatin to pull it back together. It had helped that Dot started in on the orders. 

_ Fatin, get Jeanette’s medicine bag.  _

_ Toni, grab some clean long sleeve shirts and pants. Cotton!  _

_ Shelby. Shelby? Leave her Toni, she’s in shock. Just grab the clothes, she’ll come around.  _

_ Martha, get as much clean water as you can. And start heating some new bottles.  _

“How is she?” Fatin had relieved Dot, forced her to walk away, to process, or to think about something else. It was obvious that Dot wouldn’t stay away for long, but it seemed that any amount of time might be enough to have benefit. 

Fatin turns her head away from the fire, her mouth beside Dot’s left ear. “Her body’s still warm,” she whispers, “but her hand feels cold.”

Dot looks at Rachel, pale despite weeks of exposure to the sun. Her chest moves steadily - in then out, in then out. Good. “Any bleeding?” she whispers in response. 

Fatin shakes her head, “Nothing new since we tightened the tourniquet.” 

Dot thought she’d buried that knowledge in the deepest recesses of her mind. She couldn’t have learned it on one of those reality TV survival shows. If someone needed a tourniquet on one of those, the show would have the life sued out of them and would be shut down in an instant. Maybe she learned it on a Bear Grylls special? 

“Yeah, good. Thanks, Fatin. I can take it from here.”

“Are you sure?” she pulls back to look at Dot’s face. Fatin knows that sometimes Dot’s words say one thing and her face says another. “Dot, you’ve done so much already. This job isn’t that hard. It’ll give you some rest.” 

“I can’t rest,” Dot says, busying her hands in Jeanette’s bag again, like she hasn’t already memorized its contents. “Doing this will at least let me feel like I have something to do.”

“Sure.” Dot sits down next to Rachel. 

As Fatin gets up, she strokes Dot’s hair, leans down and places a kiss atop her head. 

She’s not sure what to do, now that Rachel seems stable. Now that the commotion has died down. 

Some seem to have found purpose in this tragedy - is it still tragic if Rachel’s alive, if Nora’s missing, if Leah’s...well, Leah? It only feels like it’s definitely a tragedy if it’s over. But if it’s not over, then what? What’s worse than a tragedy?

\--

Fatin walks away from the fire, not far though. Far enough to find the bodies just close enough to be warmed by the fire but just far enough away that their faces aren’t illuminated. 

“Fucking Leah. Fucking Rachel. Fucking Nora.” Toni’s sneaker kicks up sand at each “Fuck.” Fatin had tuned this out while she was sitting next to Rachel, but it’s been happening in episodes since Shelby had gotten her bearings. After they’d triaged Rachel at Dot’s command, Toni begged off and sprinted in the direction that Shelby had disappeared. Maybe a few hours after nightfall, they’d reappeared. Toni was clutching Shelby’s hand, Shelby still not quite all there but lucid enough to nod her head in response to some questions and to occasionally tune in to everything, even if just for a moment. 

Fatin looks at Shelby, sitting on a towel while Toni paces in front of her again, then stops to kick more sand. Shelby stares ahead. 

“Toni” Fatin says sternly. 

“Don’t bother.” Shelby says. Her eyes still stare forward. 

Fatin sits down next to Shelby, who doesn’t react. Shelby’s hand feels clammy in Fatin’s hand, but it squeezes back. The fingers on Shelby’s other hand work back and forth over the cross pendant around her neck. 

They stay like that for a while and somehow Fatin’s able to tune Toni out again, despite their proximity. Maybe Shelby’s just doing the same. 

Shelby’s sigh breaks Fatin’s trance. 

She squeezes Shelby’s hand again and remembers that girl who wanted to do an icebreaker on the plane, the girl who proposed a shelter-building contest, the girl who gamely scouted the island on their very first day in this hellscape. 

“We’re going to be ok,” she whispers to Shelby. Someone has to believe it. A couple weeks ago, she would have assumed Shelby would say something like this, not her. “She’s going to be ok.”

“We don’t know that,” Shelby fires back. Her trance breaks and her eyes shift to Fatin. For a moment, they’re pure fire, and Fatin’s heart beats strong. But Shelby catches herself in an instant and her eyes fall. 

“We have to hope, Shelby,” Fatin pleads, after she’s sure Shelby won’t take her head off. 

A sob wrenches out of Shelby, and then another, and then another, until her body shakes and Toni’s kneeling before her. Fatin hadn’t noticed when she’d stopped pacing and kicking sand and raving.

Fatin looks at Toni, whose hands rest atop Shelby’s knees, which are clutched at her chest, her head buried in her arms between them. 

“Shelby,” Toni whispers and hushes her, her thumbs drawing circles on Shelby’s kneecaps. “Shelbs.”

When the sobs subside, after what seems like at least 10 minutes, Fatin leans in. “I love you,” she whispers into Shelby’s ear and presses her forehead against Shelby’s hair. She gets up and looks at Toni who nods at her. This is clearly the purpose Toni needed to find. 

\--

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Toni whispers hoarsely to Shelby. Her hands have found Shelby’s crossed atop her knees. She holds them tight and leans her head against Shelby’s. “Fuck, I’m sorry Shelb. Look at me, please.”

When she doesn’t, even after the cursing and the hoarse whines, Toni squeezes her hands in silence, and rests her forehead against Shelby’s shoulder. She thinks she might be squeezing too hard sometimes, and has to remind herself to loosen her grip, but when she does, Shelby squeezes tighter. 

“I just -” Shelby whispers to the ground, her voice now hoarse too from the crying. 

When she doesn’t say anything, Toni leans into her. “What, Shelby? What is it?”

“I - “ Shelby starts again, Toni can feel her shoulders lifting and quickly leans back to catch her eyes. They’re red and swollen, her cheeks tear-stained. 

“What can I do? I want to help you. I need to make you feel better.” Toni pleads. 

Shelby’s eyes change in an instant and she bites out, “Fuck this fuck that doesn’t help, Toni.” 

Toni recoils. She can feel control starting to slip away. Rage swarms at the back of her eyelids. Her jaw tightens, her heart thumps straight out of her chest, her palms sweat. She looks over her shoulder, trying to will it away, feeling her teeth grind together. 

Fatin’s drifting back toward the fire. 

Martha’s feet are buried in sand. She’s been standing in the surf for too long. 

Dot’s hunched over Rachels’ curled up body. 

She feels it come back and takes a deep breath. 

“I know that,” she whispers. “I know. Fuck. I’m sorry.” She pulls her hands away and sits back so that just their feet are touching. “Fuck!” she yells and it echoes against the cliffs. She feels tears prick her eyes and she tilts her head back, as if her tear ducts will pull them back in.

Shelby’s hand on her shin startles her. “Just...will you just...hold me?” Shelby looks at her for an instant, at the start of the sentence, but her gaze drifts away by the end. “I know I won’t sleep tonight,” she says, eyes unfocused and far away, “but maybe...it’ll...I don’t know...maybe...”

Toni can hear the ‘nevermind’ coming - “Shhh, c’mere.” 

She leans to spread the corners of the towel out, then pats the space in front of her. 

Shelby waits for so long that Toni’s not sure she’s actually going to lie down, but then she stretches her arms and legs out and lies on her side. 

Toni curls around her, their legs tangling and her arm draped over Shelby’s hip. Her forehead comes to rest against Shelby’s. Shelby’s eyes are closed, but Toni can’t help but keep her own open. Shelby’s eyelids are paper thin and pink and red and purple in parts. Her eyebrows furrow then relax then furrow in a pattern. 

She grabs Shelby’s hand resting between them and pulls it into her, against her chest. The furrow disappears and Shelby’s eyes blink open. “Your heart...” she whispers. It’s so soft it registers, but just barely. She’ll later think she dreamed this moment. 

Toni nods, her forehead moving against Shelby’s. This close, she can see the slight flecks of goldenrod shading her eyes. She thinks to count the flecks, like it’s important somehow, but Shelby’s eyes close again, so she lifts her head and kisses Shelby’s forehead. Shelby burrows her head under Toni’s chin. Her breath echoes against Toni’s skin. 

\--

Toni’s eyes blink open with the rising sun. There’s no sudden remembrance of yesterday, no sinking feeling in her stomach - this is not like the day after Regan broke up with her. Yesterday is persistent, even through sleep, and she knows that’s why she’s awake at this ungodly hour. 

Wisps of Shelby’s hair tickle her nose and her breath beats against Toni’s chest. 

“Shelbs?” she whispers. 

“Yes.” Shelby responds immediately, pulling her head up to look at Toni. 

“How long was I out?” she asks, tucking strands of hair, one after another, behind Shelby’s ear. 

“Few hours.”

“Did you sleep?”

Shelby just blinks her eyes and Toni knows the answer. At least they wake up next to each other, this time. The time before - was that just yesterday morning? - Shelby had slipped out of her arms and Toni was too tired to ask. When she awoke, Shelby’s knees were tucked into her chest and her fingers were working the cross around her neck. 

“Everything is ok, I guess? Since you didn’t wake me.”

“Nothing new.”

Toni nods and holds off on anything else, despite an urgency building within. It feels like a choice between saying something and tilting the atmosphere into disarray, or not saying something and staying like this for a moment longer. 

Shelby closes her eyes again and Toni has an urge to touch her face, to cup a hand around her cheek, to trace her jaw line up to her ear and across her eyelid and down the bridge of her nose. Her fingers twitch against Shelby’s back until the impulse passes. 

“I really don’t want to do this, but I need to get up. Gotta pee.”

Shelby doesn’t move, but whispers, “What do you mean, you don’t want to?”

“Don’t want to stop holding you,” Toni mumbles into Shelby’s forehead. 

Shelby still doesn’t move and Toni’s not sure if she’s fallen asleep or if she didn’t speak loudly enough or if Shelby’s fallen somewhere deep into herself again. 

But the urgency prevails and she slowly unfolds herself from around Shelby’s body. She stands over top of her for a moment, contemplates finding another towel and tucking her in, but then Shelby looks up at her.

“I’ll be here.”

That’s all Toni needs. 

\--

For some reason, the woods seem less scary the more the conspiracy forms into reality. It fuels the anger rather than fear. 

She mostly wants Nora to be drowned, her body floating out to sea. But when that rage turns to lucidity, she thinks that Nora’s life is worth hoping for. Nora knows the secrets of this place. Leah, on the other hand, is learning the secrets of this place, but she’ll never be a part of it the way that Nora is. 

And Nora’s sister, Rachel? She couldn’t have known about all this. Nora wouldn’t put her sister in danger. Some parts of the story are still blank and she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to figure them out. 

She starts back at the pit, careful when she gets near not to fall. It’s dark, but the moon is brighter than any other night. In the daylight she couldn’t see the pit’s edges, but by moonlight she somehow can. It’s a lot calmer here than on the shore. The tops of the trees rustle loudly, but beneath their canopy there’s safety of a sort. 

She should be tired, it’s probably well past midnight. But she knows that no one else is sleeping either. 

She flips the journal’s pages one by one. She doesn’t feel validated. That feeling is only deserved in the absence of tragedy.

_ Leah knows something. _

_ Leah is suspicious.  _

_ She knows something.  _   
  


It goes on for pages and pages but doesn’t offer any clue beyond what she already knew: Nora was communicating with someone somewhere. 

“Help!” She yells, her voice cracking. It’s not going to last long after screaming so hard just one night ago. 

She yells it again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Until she doesn’t know how many times she’s yelled it. She throws the journal, ping-ponging it from one tree to another. The elastic comes undone and the pages flutter. It lands on a stump covered in lichen. 

Lichen

And a knot. 

Eye level. 

She grabs the journal and runs. 

Even on a cool night, sweat drips down her forehead. She was out of breath long ago, but keeps running, sure she’ll find it. 

What if - it really was a part of her Ambien dream?

What if - Nora took a fork down a different path to lunacy?

What if - this isn’t real life at all? If she blinks, if she can just skim off the top, maybe she can find reality in here somewhere. 

She doesn’t even feel herself sit down, or feel her eyes close. 

When the sun peaks through her eyelids, she walks toward it, all the way to the ocean. 

\--

Dot sees her first, emerging from the woods. 

Then Fatin. 

Toni nearly bumps into her by the time her feet touch the sand. 

There’s a steady thump and whir in the distance. 

The wind has gone silent. 

It’s not the normal early morning hum of the island awakening. 

It sounds closer and closer. 

Until there’s movement on the horizon. 

As the sun rises, it’s eclipsed by black shapes coming toward the shore. 

From the other direction, a helicopter rises, seemingly animating itself from the thick woods in the center of the island. 

Dot, Fatin, and Toni turn toward the noise, then look out to the shore. Shelby’s head rises slowly from the sand. She can see Rachel’s body not far from Shelby and she hopes she’s still alive. 

Martha? Nora?

The noises get closer and her brain short circuits..

She sprints back toward the woods, a shoe flying off, the journal falling out of her grip. 

There’s no right choice, she thinks. 

Get on a helicopter or into a boat - with who? With whoever Nora was talking to? 

When her legs tire and she starts to wheeze, she finds a spot to rest. 

She opens her eyes and it’s cool out, the sun setting. More than 12 hours have passed. There’s voices, but not voices she recognizes. Deep voices. 

She closes her eyes again and decides to stop fighting. It’s exhausted her. It’s time to find out what’s next. 

Sometime between the tranquilizer and the dark of her mind, Leah hears:

“Two missing. One in critical condition. We should have come last night. I told you.”

Feet rustle through the woods and she’s moving even if she’s not walking. 

“There’s no way we would have made it to shore last night - not with the wind and the waves.” 

Her body jostles against strong shoulders. 

“Why didn’t we know it was this bad?”

The salt air awakens her senses just as quickly as they dull again.

“When the cameras were restored on the other side of the island, they surged the cameras on this side. We lost sight of them.”

She feels water on her toes, then rubber, then nothing. 

“Is it over, then?”


End file.
